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I thought about prefacing my 'back to school' blog in September with "Dark times lie ahead, Harry". I decided not to. Not because framing my year with a Harry Potter reference was excessively nerdy (puh-leeze - have you read the rest of this shyte-show that is my blog?), but because I found it to be excessively foreboding in a way I wanted to avoid, and chock-full of expectations I wanted to rid myself of. I knew the term would be hard. I knew it would be busy as fuck. And I was ready for all that.

[and now my brain has playfully flitted off to think of awkward Voldemort moments. This is why I can't reference nice things]

It's been a more difficult term than anticipated though, and not just because of getting flattened by film theory, or being paralyzed by fear in regards to finalizing and submitting my thesis proposal (case in point: right this moment). It's been a strange term of learning to come to terms with anxiety that seems to flare up far more than I'm used to, and in weird contexts. A term full of being surrounded by strange tension and drama that I thought I'd closed the door on back in high school. A term of trying to learn to reclaim a voice in public contexts that somehow I seem to have (quite uncharacteristically, I might add) lost along the way, and learning to re-prioritize what I need and what is important to me.

And, of course, there were the big ol' exterior factors, like the slew of sexual assaults that have been happening at UBC campus. The hope is always that an event this scary will end up with everyone banding together, and surprising you with the multiplicity of positive reactions. And there have been kernels of hope, but more often than not, I've just been wryly remarking all the ways in which this event has been a rallying cry to draw out the worst in so many people and organizations. It's an interesting time to start taking part in A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant and a Prayer (henceforth referred to as MMRP), as the atmosphere is particularly charged not only with threat and awareness of sexual assault, but of people getting all kinds of things wrong about them, from initial coverage, by police and others, tumbling into victim blaming ("well, they shouldn't be walking alone at night anyway", or the equally delightful, "well, all the victims were drunk and wearing skirts. Jus' sayin'"), to lots of people piggybacking the issue into love/hate spats about contemporary feminism, "fuck the police" ranting, or general anti-man sentiments and suspicion fuming, barely under the surface. All of which, of course, is missing the point: that this is not a new thing, and that this narrative of trying to translate all fear of sexual assault into a single, creepy person (which, yes, should absolutely be taken seriously) ignores the fact that sexual assaults happen constantly, and often within families, relationships or friendships, where the assaulted party feels unsafe saying or doing anything about it. The assaults on campus are terrifying, yes, but it's not a case of "we catch this guy and 'it's over'", which a lot of people are unconsciously suggesting. This is why a lot of the proposed security plans of addressing the issue upset me - because they're all really short term, rather than using this as an occasion to start a paradigm shift in terms of addressing and confronting this problem henceforth. Specifics as to how to do this? Everyone is struggling on that part - yes, including me. Go figure.

 Last week, I witnessed a female friend of mine target and interrogate a man standing alone at night on campus, immediately suspecting him as a contender for the perpetrator of the sexual assaults, and interpreting his aversion to her being in his face and blaming him as clear guilt on his part. This nearly resulted in her following and reporting him as "suspicious", simply for standing alone, in a lit area, with a highly credible backstory. I was pretty rattled by this, and not in the same way she was. Look - just as it is (tragically) learned behaviour for women to learn to be cautious when walking alone at night from a young age, it's equally learned behaviour for any non-oblivious male that, walking alone at night, they could be interpreted as a threat, simply because of terrible statistics. This makes for a pretty weird and unsettling thought process (how best to be 'not creepy' just in the act of getting home from the bar at night? I myself utilize techniques as widespread as crossing the street when approaching women on the sidewalk from behind to not freak them out, coughing to alert them to my presence and not startle them, or even faking phone calls or singing aloud to music to better telegraph my presence), and for about ten years I've been trying to unlearn feeling guilty and intimidating by association. I'm now trying super hard to not let this incident set me back by validating my fear of constantly being seen as a threat when I'm just innocently walking by myself at night. I'm not sharing all this to try to tip the balance towards "Oh poor men - men have it so hard. Men are the ones truly suffering in the midst of these sexual assault threats". I'm just trying to reassert that it sucks for everyone. Period.

Anyway, the inevitable response to my above story is "Well, if it upset you so much, why didn't you say anything?" Good question. The answer isn't actually as simple as my aforementioned struggling with voicelessness. The answer is that said woman was really triggered. She was shaking and hugging herself and visibly trying to keep herself together. Just for having seen a man alone and wondered if maybe, just maybe, he might be "the assailant". And ultimately I just felt so sad. Sad that this had affected me, but moreso sad that it had affected her so sincerely and strongly. She clearly knew that this was likely ridiculous, and she could all too easily be written off as having a "hysterical female moment" (no one present insinuated that, but still). And feeling like your genuine terror is devalidated simply because of unlikely circumstances is pretty shit. So, in conclusion, it was not worth further triggering her and adding to her sense of shame and ludicrousness just to engage in a moral battle to make myself feel better. It just sucks. And makes me sad.

Then there was UBC's "Take Back the Night" rally on Wednesday, which I attended for a bit. The Ubyssey has published a shittacular response to it, which is a strong candidate for one of the worst pieces of journalism I've ever read. They are right in regards to one thing, though: the rally was absolutely problematic. Initially, I was happy just to be allowed to go, as I was still nursing hurt feelings from Laurier's "Take Back the Night" in 2009, which I really wanted to help out with, but wasn't allowed to partake in, as they wanted it to be a women-only walk (with male allies waiting by the side of the road in the cold cheering the women on - why even invite me and court the illusion that I can take part?). But when I got there, there were more problems than the rain - there was a ton of anger in the crowd (understandable), but which led into a pretty uncomfortable, rather than reclamatory, atmosphere. Then, of course, things dissolved into "fuck the police!" rantings, and a lot of murmurings in the crowd that "men shouldn't speak!" and "men shouldn't be here - this is a women's issue!", which led to my (male) friend leaving. He later posted on the facebook group for the event that he had been sexually assaulted as a child, and left because rather than supporting an extremely valid issue, he was instead made to feel like his own experience was devalidated and erased in what was supposed to be a safe space. He is my hero for speaking up in such an articulate and unaggressive way. Later on - I'd already left at this point - apparently there was a big commotion when a trans woman spoke about how she'd tried to take refuge with the organization when she was sexually assaulted, but was likewise turned away. When she tried to share this story, people started talking over her and urging her to leave, at which point she exclaimed "this is actually aggression at this rate" and left. Damn straight, and a damn shame to taint what should have been such a positive event with such petty and shitty ideology.

So, that's all been pretty bad. Then there was that whole deal with Russell Brand's sudden turn to political revolutionary and 'voice of the people' after his editorial/"manifesto" (seldom have I used quotes so scathingly - it doesn't help the fact that you can't help but mentally read it all in his intolerably screechy, grating voice) in The New Statesman. I was initially going to write a longer feature about how much Brand's hypocrisy, idea-free cry for revolution, and trying to re-code himself as 'the John Lennon for this generation', as well as a new poster boy for several generations to hide behind in their defense of not voting out of ignorance annoyed me, but school and more important things sapped my energy too much. So, instead, to quote one of my favourite Collegehumor Batman parodies, "I don't like it!"

Apparently Brand's recent tour is called "Messiah Complex". Fuck everything about this guy.

Anyway, it's been a funny time in the world. The day the stupendous trailer for Captain America: The Winter Soldier comes out, with its highly poster-quotable line "This isn't freedom - this is fear", I read an article about the NSA spying, and how the French government was indignant because "We knew they'd been spying, we just didn't know they'd been spying THAT much!" All I could do, experiencing both of those things in a row, was chuckle. Faintly.

Then, this past weekend, I found this , which also pissed me off. Again, feminism gets a poster-girl and reputation of being exploitative, rude, mean - having horrible grammar and being pretty racist here - and generally just not giving a shit. Yup, this is progressive, all right.

But, lest it seem too much like I'm becoming this:



 There are good things too! Yay, good things! [Kelly's rather resonant quote from last week was "I thought we could have some fun! Remember fun...?" - I do, Kelly! I do!]

One: right after the aforementioned crap, I came across this, which I thought was pretty cool. Lookee - an example of people doing things proactively, with a long-term scope in mind!

Two: I have a fact, courtesy of roomie extraordinaire, Mr. Ty! And it's a glorious change of pace from the rest of this dour diatribe.

#53: Flying squirrels have two penises.

Or at least two-pronged penises.

Yup. Apparently it's because female flying squirrels, in violent defense, will often rip off the penis of a male making unwanted advances at them.

And somehow this all comes full circle.

Oh right - did I mention that thesis proposal that's still due? Yeah, maybe I should go worry about that for a bit.

In conclusion, if all this sounding off has gotten you down a bit, console yourself with the knowledge that, if if nothing else, there's always the world beard championships.


You're welcome.